With his status as a member of the Zheng Clan and being destined to participate in the elixir tasting today, no one dared to compete with him, everyone simply avoided him.

The Dharma Assembly had yet to begin, but he had already indulged in a feast, leaving the table in complete disarray with overturned jugs and scattered cups, the aroma of wine permeating the air, and his robe sleeves stained with filth.

Though he was a disciple of the Zheng Clan, he had always been unconventional and paid no heed to clan rules or social etiquette. Sitting across from him at that moment, drinking with trembling fear, was someone pale-faced and unable to relax.

This individual was a disciple of the Du Family—a cultivator at the Meridian Opening phase, who had no prior acquaintance with the young man in fine clothes. Passing by, he was pulled along to keep the latter company simply because of his amusingly large nose.

The young man in fine clothing toyed with a dragon-carved wine cup, his eyes half-closed as he gazed at the few True Masters hovering above, sighing, "I wonder when I'll be able to sit in their place."

Reaching out with his hand, he pointed at each of the True Masters one by one, suddenly turning his head to address the Du Family disciple, "Do you believe it? Within three hundred years, I'll have all these old geezers under my heel!"

The Du Family disciple's heart trembled with fear, his face turning ashen and his body rigid, wishing he could plug his ears.

Just then, a figure flew in from outside, coming to a halt upstairs, dispersing the surrounding mist before striding steadily inside. Hearing the boast from the young man, the figure paused briefly and said in a low voice, "Second Brother, you're drunk."

The young man in fine clothing straightened abruptly, frowning, "Is that Brother Xun? Strange, when did you solidify your pill?"

Zheng Xun walked in and sat to the side, replying in a deep voice, "Yesterday."

The young man cast a sideways glance at the Du Family disciple, motioning for him to leave. The man fled as if granted amnesty, scrambling out frantically. The young man raised his wine cup, tipped it back, and asked, "How many grades is the pill you've formed?"

Zheng Xun was silent for a moment before he replied, "Fifth grade."

With a loud "clang," the young man smashed his wine cup on the ground and cursed, "Have those old geezers gone mad? With your abilities, even delaying by a year or two would surely bring you beyond the fourth grade. Why force it prematurely? Was it for that nonsense Dharma Assembly?"

Zheng Xun slowly shook his head, a bitter smile crossing his face as he said, "Not for that. You see, Zhang Yan and I both once cultivated in the Lower Court of Shanyuan Temple, and I was even the Senior Disciple there. The clan's reputation is paramount..."

Hearing this, the young man gave a cold laugh, fully understanding why the clan had been so impatient.

Zheng Xun and Zhang Yan both hailed from the Lower Court of Shanyuan Temple. Zheng Xun had even entered the Upper Court slightly earlier than Zhang Yan. Yet, Zhang Yan had managed to refine his pill first, eclipsing Zheng Xun.

On an ordinary day, this might have been trivial, but at this critical juncture during the elixir tasting, if word got out that Zheng Xun was still a cultivator in the Xuan Guang realm, where would the face of the Zheng Clan be?

Zheng Xun's cultivation of Mysterious Skill emphasized stability and a steady progression—each step carefully measured, with results naturally following suit. However, he had prematurely solidified his pill before the right time, an action akin to "forcing the seedlings to grow." His prior efforts were rendered futile. Yet, the clan prioritized their reputation above all else.

Zheng Xun had once earned his place in the Upper Court due to the sudden death of another clan disciple and had inherited that disciple's resources under the Zheng Clan's covert assistance. He had believed his cultivation path would be smooth sailing, but now he found himself forced to compromise and sacrifice—a situation that proved success and failure alike stemmed from the clan.

Noble family disciples, unless achieving the absolute pinnacle of cultivation, must always place their family above personal pursuits. The young man in fine clothing despised this deeply. However, reflecting further, he thought: Were it not for that damned Zhang Yan, would things have come to this? It was clearly Zhang Yan who had forced Zheng Xun into this predicament.

With a cold snort, he vowed fiercely, "Brother Xun, rest assured. At today's elixir tasting, should Zhang Yan dare to attend, watch how I humiliate him and avenge you!"

At that moment, the sound of jade chimes and golden bells echoed in their ears. The clear, resonant tones spread across the mountain gate and reverberated on Raging Wave Rock, overpowering the roar of the tide.

It was the second chime already. If the chime rang for the third time, the elixir tasting would commence. Yet, as of now, Zhang Yan remained unseen.

Among the disciples below, someone jested, "Why hasn't Zhang Yan arrived yet? Could it be that he's scared?"

Another joked, "In a noble family like ours, talent abounds. How could mere disciples of a single line compare? If I were him, I'd stay holed up in Turtle Mansion rather than come here and embarrass myself."

This was a mockery of the Zhao You Heavenly Pond, which had once been Great Demon Gui Congyao's cave mansion. Yet, the underlying tone carried a trace of jealousy, drawing an uproarious laughter from the crowd.

But just as the laughter began, a streak of sword light cut across the azure sky, as dazzling as a thunderbolt streaking past. At first, it seemed far in the distance, but in a few quick flashes, it approached close. The chilling sword light seemed to press against their brows, prompting an instinctive urge to retreat a few steps. On Raging Wave Rock, the disciples collectively found their breath suddenly tight, the laughter abruptly silenced.

It was as though the sheer force of the flying sword had subdued thousands, leaving them mute.

Master Xu, seated at the upper pavilion, had remained silent all this time but now suddenly straightened and murmured to himself, "A flying sword?"

As the sword light dissipated, Zhang Yan emerged from within, standing aloft in the air. Bowing slightly with a smile, he said, "Apologies for keeping all my fellow disciples waiting. Forgive Zhang Yan for arriving late."

Thousands of gazes swept towards him in unison—a sight no less daunting than facing thousands of swords aimed directly at oneself.

In this moment, Zhang Yan stood alone before the noble families and thousands of cultivators, yet he appeared entirely unfazed. His expression was serene and composed as he sat cross-legged upon the clouds, his movements elegant and carefree, showing no trace of unease.

Though Zhang Yan was of the lineage of a single-master line, his charm and demeanor captivated many of the disciples, prompting admiration and even silent cheers.

Elder Gong glanced at Zhang Yan, initially intending to call him to his seat, yet hesitated and refrained, sighing inwardly, "Such boldness in Zhang Yan. A pity—this time, the noble families have gathered their finest talents of this generation. Even if Zhang Yan manages to surpass a few, how could he prevail against them all? Ultimately, it's a foregone defeat."

...

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